Intent
by lunakatrina
Summary: Blatantly ignores HBP. Harry has always been a special boy for as long as he can remember, which may or may not include the founding of Hogwarts...
1. Intent

**_IMPORTANT!!! IF YOU'RE ONLY GOING TO READ ONE A/N IN THIS FIC LET THIS BE THE ONE!!!_ **The other story I put up under the name Intent was only a teaser to see if people liked it, and they did so I've started the story from the beginning and this is what happened, what you saw under the teaser, which I left up to help avoid confusion, will happen, but later in the story...this will lead more gradually into the plot and probably give you more information...though I will admit this is not as grabbing as the teaser was...but whatever, this is the real story and the teaser is sort like and outtake until I get there in this story...

**_Intent_**

Harry smiled paternally at the first years from his place at the Gryffindor table, and then returned his attention to the newest addition to the Hogwarts staff, Residius Morton. Professor Residius Morton looked a bit down on his luck; his robes were a bit old and slightly off-colored, but nothing belying a complete and utter lack of funds. Morton also appeared to be a good fellow with nothing off about him, besides his rather sincere smile, but there were certainly worse traits to possess.

But Harry wondered just what it was about the man that qualified him for the rather lack-luster position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, because there was no way the man made it in by being a nice, normal guy. Harry knew there had to be something not quite right about the man, and he was not looking forward to unearthing such a mystery, but unfortunately his inherent curiosity would lead him to find out before he ever faced Residius Morton in class.

"Harry," Hermione whispered to him, prodding him not-so-gently in the arm, "are you listening to what the sorting hat is saying?"

_I most certainly am not_, Harry thought in reply, but turned and looked at the singing hat to appease Hermione. The stupid hat had an ego bigger than that of Lockhart, Dumbledore, or even—yes, Harry would admit it—himself. The hat simply loved to hear itself talk, and Harry would certainly never bring himself to listen to the damn thing, mainly because he had no interest in speaking to inanimate objects.

"That's very deep," Harry replied somewhat contritely, when Hermione looked at him sharply, "I think it's making a good point. I wish I'd paid attention to the rest of it…"

Hermione gave him a suspicious look and Harry smiled his best charming smile at her, and she melted enough so that Harry could return his attention to the so-called Residius Morton for a few seconds more. No, he definitely didn't trust the man to be a perfectly normal person.

Not that Harry could, in any way, in this universe, be considered normal.

Then the first child was sorted into Hufflepuff and, old habits die hard, Harry had to remember not to applaud enthusiastically. Hermione shot Harry another look, and Harry realized he was going to have to be more careful around her, she was beginning to notice more things about him—probably Dumbledore's doing.

But Harry simply gave her his very best smile and returned his attention to the sorting. The poor children looked mortified; Harry definitely would do a better job of sorting and leading the children into Hogwarts. Hagrid did a good job of setting the mood for entering the magical place, but McGonagall clearly frightened the kids.

The first child was sorted into Gryffindor and Harry applauded along with his fellow Gryffindors, while the flushing girl hurried her way over to an empty seat at the table.

And it hadn't been beyond Harry's notice that there had never, ever been an empty seat near him during a sorting, apparently his peers found having Ginny nearby preferable to coddling and teasing first years…goes to show what they knew. Harry decided it was high time he ended this ritual, and what better time to do so than his seventh year at Hogwarts.

But, that would go against all that was Harry Potter…well, it didn't have to.

"Hermione," Harry said thoughtfully, "they look so uncomfortable, wouldn't it be best if we could do something to make them feel more comfortable?"

"You've never been concerned before," Hermione told him somewhat coldly and suspiciously.

"Well, they've never been so small before," Harry replied, quirking his mouth into a grin, "look at them, they're so little and vulnerable." He turned his very best pout on Hermione and asked, "Don't you remember when we were getting sorted?"

Hermione huffed and acquiesced, and Harry had to pat himself on the back for his mad skills.

"But, where are they going to sit?" Hermione asked, "Did you think of that when you came up with your plan to be a mentor?"

"I did indeed," Harry replied, distractedly glancing over the gathered students and picking out the future Gryffindors, and wondering which would be sorted first. "And the rather simple response is…"

One of the kids Harry pegged as a Gryffindor was called up next, and he waited for the hat to call out the girl's house, Gryffindor exploded into applause, and Harry shoved Hermione to the side, making a space between him and Ron and beckoned the girl over. She flushed and sent a quick look down the table before scurrying over like a terrified little rabbit.

Harry smiled brightly at the girl as she sat down beside him, her head shyly ducked as she looked covertly at the older students around her.

"Hello there," Harry greeted brightly, "Name's Harry, what's yours?"

"Emily," the girl replied and Harry suddenly felt much better because he was finally back in his element.

"That's a very pretty name," Harry told the girl, "are you excited about school?"

She flushed at Harry's compliment and replied, "Yes."

"Well, I hate to be the bearer—" Another kid was declared a Gryffindor and Harry shoved Hermione further down and beckoned the boy over and continued, now with a first year on each side, "of bad news, but in Hogwarts you have to share a room with four other people…half of whom probably snore."

Harry turned to the boy and quickly introduced himself before continuing, "Take Ron and Dean for example," he pointed out both boys to the first years, "both of them snore something awful, and Ron also tends to talk in his sleep."

"Now," Harry continued brightly, oozing confidence and charisma to the first years who just ate it up. "some of you might think sleep-talkers would be a rather annoying thing, and believe me they are, but Ron here happens to have some very interesting dreams, like just on the train here Ron dozed off and had a very in-depth conversation with Merlin about the forty uses of spider in relation to causing the end of the world."

The little first year girl snickered; just as another Gryffindor was welcomed to the house, and Harry beckoned the boy over and guilted Hermione into scooting down to make room for their new house-mate.

Harry introduced himself to the boy who revealed his name to be Simon Powers. As far as Harry could tell there appeared to be a good deal of muggleborns in Gryffindor this year if the three kids he already had by him weren't pure or half bloods. It would definitely be better if he got all the muggleborn kids by him though, that way he could help them better adjust…

Or some crap like that. But he really didn't feel like putting up with some brat of a pureblood that had decided that they were the fundamental expert on him, just because they went to school with the famous Harry Potter…of course there was always the chance there could be another Creevy in this crowd…

The sorting continued, and Harry managed to get all the first year Gryffindors in his general area, including the first one to be sorted, and discovered that there were, in fact, a rather large number of muggleborn children in the also large group of fifteen. Harry's paternal behavior hadn't gone unnoticed either, all the upperclassmen in the school were giving Harry strange looks and Dumbledore was twinkling down on Harry approvingly, though he clearly had no idea what Harry was up to.

It was rather fun throwing everyone for a loop, and also disappointing that all the hints he dropped were never picked up by anyone.

"Are you really famous?" a girl who wore a large, well-worn hoodie over her robes asked shyly and sleepily, blinking her long eye-lashes.

"Unfortunately," Harry replied just as an obnoxious, pureblood boy—Harry sure could call 'em couldn't he?—declared, "of course he's famous, he defeated You-know-who!"

"Who's that?" the shy girl asked, rubbing her face with a hand covered by the too-long sleeve of her hoody, Harry could tell she was going to get into trouble because it violated the uniform...at least Snape would take points because of it.

"He's an evil wizard," Harry replied, "he's been out to kill me since I was a baby."

"Why?" a few of the children asked curiously.

"Because—" the outspoken boy replied and Harry cut in and replied, louder:

"_Because_ of something I know that you don't know anything about," Harry replied staring the boy down, "honestly, Voldemort"—the boy and the three other purebloods/half-bloods of the group flinched—"is just an utter madman, and the main reason he wants to kill me is just completely stupid."

"Then why haven't you told us what it is?" a little girl asked as she popped her gum.

"Because," Harry said with a wink, "if I told you, you'd loose all respect for me, it's so stupid."

She smiled and then blew a bubble with her gum. The sorting finished with a small mousy androgynous child that went into Ravenclaw and Dumbledore stood up.

"Who's he?" the girl with the large hoodie asked, and Harry just barely managed to beat the obnoxious boy to the answer.

"That's Headmaster Albus Dumbledore," Harry replied, nonchalantly. "He's also famous for destroying a dark lord."

"I always thought it was funny," a girl whose fingernails were painted black said softly from behind a book, "that no one ever says that you 'killed' or 'murdered' a bad person, it's always destroyed."

"Never thought of that before," Harry commented, "very astute of you."

She rolled her eyes and returned to her book.

"But yes, Albus Dumbledore is definitely more than a little crazy," Harry continued. "As are all the rest of the teachers, but he's definitely the craziest."

"Is it proper to insult your teachers like that?" one girl asked.

Harry grinned in response and replied, "Only if they don't know you're doing it."

Dumbledore finished with whatever it was he said and food appeared before them. The muggleborn first years gasped in amazement, excluding the girl with the book who simply rolled her eyes and placed her book on the seat next to her.

Harry began piling food onto his plate, keeping up the light conversation with the first years, but he spared one more glance up to Morton and decided that he would most definitely be sneaking into the man's office and classroom later tonight.

* * *

It had been about a few hours since McGonagall had broken up the back to school party. Harry had been secretly pleased that he now had a good excuse to leave the party, which had not been any fun at all because as far as Harry was concerned, it was not a party unless you had to worry about turning different colors every time you risked food…and since the Weasley twins were now two years gone this was quickly becoming common practice. 

Harry pulled his wand out from under his pillow and popped the blood lollipop out of his mouth long enough to whisper the time spell. Nearly four…Harry licked the lollipop and popped it back into his mouth; he would have to leave at four and be back before five, lest some early riser find him.

Harry didn't worry about an hour being to short a time to search, he'd found out everything he'd needed to know about Remus in under thirty minutes…all the werewolf paraphernalia had given him away fairly easily and the absence after the full moon had confirmed it. Now, Moody, it'd taken Harry a good part of a month just to break into the man's office, and even longer to get into his rooms…the man would always just nearly catch him. Quite a pain, really...

Harry slipped out of bed and began to get ready to do his ritual spy on the DADA teacher, quietly sucking on his lollipop and moving stealthily through the dorm to keep his dorm mates from waking up.

Finally, Harry was ready and he tossed his invisibility cloak over his shoulders and slipped out of the room. Slipping out of the Gryffindor common room was, as usual, obscenely easy and Harry was quickly on his way down to the Defense classroom. It was probably the easiest place to begin.

The journey to the classroom was the best part of the annual trip, in Harry's opinion; Hogwarts was completely transformed at night. Strange glimmers of light would shine down the slightly chilled hallways; all the portraits were silent and sleeping, or wary with guarded eyes. The stones echoed the quiet shufflings of Harry feet and whatever other creatures there were hiding just beyond view. Windows would gleam large rectangles of pale light onto the floor periodically, and from the castle at this time there was a vague glimmer of fog, visible only in the moonlight.

But beyond all of this was the silent peace that filled Hogwarts, her children were safe and asleep, well-fed and warm and she was content with their content, and all was well and that was all.

Harry trailed his hand down a wall as he passed, and felt the full contentment of the castle and a smile easily made it onto his face. The rest of the trip went smoothly and he was before the door to the defense classroom before he knew it.

Harry tested the doorknob and mentally groaned when he discovered it was locked. This clearly required other tactics; he placed his hand, flat, against the door and whispered, quietly, "Help me out?"

Harry only response was a soft trill of magic fluttering across his skin, and he tested the door once more and this time it was unlocked. Harry smiled and patted the wall next to him, softly, before easing the door open and stepping into the dark classroom, softly shutting the door behind him.

The curtains had been pulled and the only light in the room came from under the door and around the heavy drapes of the windows.

Harry waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust, or adjust well enough so that he could pick out desks and other things that he might trip and fall on. Slowly but surely the room gained shape and Harry was pleased to discover that Morton's desk was right before him and unwarded…this looked like it was going to be a relatively simple search.

Harry made his way over to the desk and opened a drawer, murmuring '_lumos'_ softly so that only a small glimmer of light emerged from the tip of his wand.

"Show yourself, errant student!" a voice Harry had only ever heard in recordings yelled, and Harry was so startled the light on his wand fizzled out, and the room was dropped back into darkness. "Breaking into a classroom in the middle of the night? Tsk, tsk."

Harry slowly rounded the desk, not able to believe what he was hearing.

"That's grounds for detention," a female voice added, and Harry couldn't place this voice as easily, but the sound of it niggled in the back of his brain…but recognizing it wasn't a big problem because Harry was pretty sure he knew who it was.

"Two hours," the first voice agreed, matter-of-fact, "strung up to the ceiling by your wrists. Not quite a bad enough offense for toes."

The woman murmured her agreement and Harry, moved slowly from the desk to the wall and found his hands slipping over the familiar feeling of magic, wards…wards he well-recognized. Harry trailed his fingers over the smooth magic he hadn't felt in years…

"Well, there's a person here, because someone's feeling me up," the woman commented nonchalantly, and Harry jerked his fingers away as the two people laughed. Harry gripped his wand and allowed the tip of it to slip out of his invisibility cloak.

It was time to face the music.

"_Lumos_."


	2. Intent, the Second

I don't own Harry Potter...I didn't own Harry Potter last chapter or in any of my other stories either, and I won't ever own Harry Potter...so yeah...I disclaim Harry Potter...

Thanks to everyone who reviewed, I appreciate all your comments and especially your questions which I hope to answer...eventually...

Anyway, here's your next installment...I think it gets a little loopy toward the end, but whatever...the whole thing's loopy

_**Intent, The Second**_

Harry scratched his ear and smiled at Hermione, who was again staring at him like he _might_ be the devil himself. Harry really needed to figure out just who had set her on him so he could find some way to get her off his back.

It was becoming a bit stifling, not to mention she could catch onto what exactly Harry was trying to hide, and worst yet: Harry's mouth was starting to hurt because of all the smiling he'd been doing.

…and it wasn't even working!

Harry turned his attention back to McGonagall, she wouldn't have anything to do with Hermione's behavior, but she might know about it and be unable to do anything about it. There couldn't be any concrete reason to be watching Harry; it wasn't like anyone truly knew anything about him…but his behavior must have changed in order to have it pointed out to Hermione.

Dumbledore was the likely culprit…or maybe someone just pointed out something Harry did and Hermione latched onto it. Whatever happened, it was becoming annoying rather rapidly.

Honestly, how did these people expect Harry to off a dark lord working under these conditions?

Bloody impossible was what this was.

Harry turned his thoughts away from that matter and placed his attention on McGonagall, she was talking about theory, and Harry never had much of a mind for Transfiguration theories. He picked up his quill and resumed his elaborate doodling as McGonagall lectured.

Hermione gave Harry one last suspicious look, and Harry was sure that was because he was actually "paying attention" and returned to her neatly organized notes. Class continued on in this manner until a parchment appeared before Harry right on top of his drawing, luckily for him it appeared inside his illusion so no one saw it.

The parchment looked older than sin, but Harry knew that it wasn't. It was carefully rolled up and held by an extremely elaborate bow crafted from four thin ribbons of black, bronze, silver and gold.

Harry was sure Dumbledore wouldn't be happy that he'd lost such a precious artifact.

Harry spent the rest of the class smiling smugly at the priceless relic that had presented itself to him.

* * *

That night, at dinner, Harry's eyes were continually drawn back up to the head table where Dumbledore was deep in a whispered conversation with McGonagall about something that made Dumbledore's brow furrow deeply. 

Harry hid his smirk behind his sandwich and spared an amused glance around the hall…or at least it was amused until he discovered that Ginny was walking in and there just so happened to be an empty seat almost right next to Harry.

Harry only barely managed to contain a curse and wondered just how un-Harry Potter-ish it would be to get up and run out of the great hall screaming like a girl. Harry wasn't quite sure why the whole school seemed to be convinced that Harry _really_ needed to shack up with Ginny, but it was frankly disturbing.

Not to mention Ginny was icky.

Or that Harry had been shacked up with a hot Ravenclaw by the name of Lisa Turpin for the past year and a half.

And despite the fact Ginny's weirdness had led to some _amazing_ jealous sex, Harry was going to go crazy if he had to put up with her through One. More. Meal.

Ginny noticed him staring at her in clear horror and disgust, which somehow went completely over her head, and she smiled in a way that made Harry worry for the well-being of his immortal soul. Then a shy first year girl saved his sorry, sorry ass.

She slid into the seat where Ginny was clearly heading and said softly, "Um, hi, I was wondering, since you were so nice earlier, if…you could...you know help me with something."

_Well, considering you just saved my appetite_… "What can I help you with?" Harry asked brightly, leaning precariously close to Hermione's plate, just to peeve her.

The girl looked shocked he'd agreed, Harry wouldn't be surprised if the other upperclassmen had snubbed her in favor of trying to get Harry to shack up with Ginny. Then she smiled quickly and pulled out a textbook.

"Trnafigurations?" Harry asked, "not exactly my most knowledgeable subject, but I can certainly help you with anything you'd need to know."

"We're doing toothpicks into sewing needles," the girl explained, "and I keep making these things that look like mechanical pencil leads, except they're not graphite."

Harry leaned over the table and attempted to try and fix the girl's problem, he kept one eye on Ginny and tried not to smirk when she glared at the first year girl and headed over to her year mates, which was as it damn well should have been, but Harry was definitely regretting his decision to go into the Gryffindor House since all it had gotten him was...Ginny…he forced down a grimace.

Okay, Harry was exaggerating; he'd gotten more out of Gryffindor than his own personal freaky stalker girl. He almost had himself convinced now, but every night before bed he still continued to look over the list he'd created telling all the good things about Gryffindor just to make sure.

Okay, so Harry was exaggerating again, the list was actually a farce; he'd created it because Ron and Hermione had gotten a bit too _comfortable_ with Harry's belongings in the past year or two, and so now if they looked through his trunk they would find something they didn't want to see…a candidly honest list of the good things about Gryffindor.

A direct quote: "great friends like Ron and Hermione that are so willing to accept me and worry for my well-being that they randomly go through my things…like prison wardens."

Harry'd caught them looking at him with tight-lipped, guarded expressions one day and he'd known that he'd won _that_ particular battle…at least momentarily.

But Harry was used to fighting, and normally winning battles. Because that's all that his stay at Hogwarts had consisted of: battles.

Harry couldn't say he minded them…so long as he continued winning.

That's where everything hinged.

"Can you help me with potions too?" the little first year girl asked brightly, "I've been having a lot of problems in there."

Harry grinned and shook his head replying, "I'm a bit beyond help in potions so you'd probably be way better off if you tracked someone else down for help in there. Now for your magic classes—I'm your man."

"Potions isn't the only course you're doing poorly in," Hermione informed Harry, "She should probably get help from someone else, who has time to spare from their studies. Someone who's better than average at coursework."

Harry grinned at the first year and then at Hermione and replied, "Just because my grades are poor doesn't mean I don't have any aptitude in a subject. Besides, this is just first year stuff; I think I have a pretty good hold over them, considering I'm average in my current coursework."

"Which means that you're—?"

"Which means that I have to have an understanding of the basics before I can do well on something that requires the basics, right?" Harry asked curiously, trying to keep from getting testy. He managed very well…but he's had so many years of practice it's hardly surprising.

But Hermione's suspicious nature would either have to be stopped or directed elsewhere…where's an evil dark lord when you need one?

"What about charms, then?" the girl asked brightly.

"Charms it is," Harry declared, "what seems to be the problem?"

As Harry looked down at the girl's book to see exactly what it was that had been lost in translation, Dumbledore and McGonagall finished their conversation and Dumbledore stood up and quickly slipped out of the Great Hall. McGonagall remained in her seat, stiff, with her lips pursed.

Harry fought down the wry bit of amusement he felt and corrected the little first year girls' wand form. Hermione looked surprised Harry even knew what the correct form was for the levitation spell.

Hours later, Harry was sitting on his bed, curtains as closed as he could get them, with glowing balls of light produced by his wand floating near the canopy of his four poster bed.

It lay before him.

One of the most priceless artifacts in Britain, Harry was sure. He was also sure that certain people would be looking ceaselessly for this little bit of living history.

"And what?" Harry questioned the inanimate object, "Shall I do with you?"

The gold and silver ribbons glinted a bit, but that was no response.

Harry shook his head, and allowed himself to dwell on the situation a bit more. Then he slammed a hand over his mouth, to keep from laughing out loud…or giggling like a schoolgirl.

Harry looked up at the canopy of his bed, where the little orbs of light floated it a bright, fuzzy mass, and allowed himself to say it out loud…hopefully no one would hear him…

"I have the deed to Hogwarts."

The orbs exploded into darkness, and Harry couldn't keep one chuckle from escaping...well, wasn't this a twist?


	3. Intent, the Third

This chapter should answer a few questions...kinda...I tried not to give TOO much away, but I feel like I've failed...whatever...enjoy this chapter, and much thanks and adoration to those who reviewed!

**_Intent, the Third_**

"Wonder if this one's up to anything?" Ron asked, curiously, as they made their way to the Defense classroom.

Luckily he was only referring to Residius Morton, and not Harry. Harry would definitely be forced to kill something if Ron became suspicious of him as well.

"Who knows?" Harry replied, with an air of exasperation, but Harry knew that there was absolutely nothing dangerous about the man, at least his personal effects and resume implied there was nothing more to the man than a slight obsession with certain historical figures.

They reached the classroom, and then Dean declared, "Look! I told you! Practically twins!"

"Vaguely similar," Parvati agreed grudgingly after looking at Harry.

Harry's eyebrows rose and he put on what he hoped was a confused, yet amused look, "What's going on?"

"Look at this portrait, Harry!" Dean exclaimed, pointing to one of the walls, "it looks just like you."

"Not exactly," Lavender interrupted, "but similar."

Harry made his way over to the wall his classmates were gathered around, and looked at the wall curiously.

Four portraits looked back at him…though not directly; it appeared that they weren't looking at anything, exactly. They also didn't move, and the dress of the four people in the pictures implied that the portraits were very old.

Harry studied the four paintings, and then asked, "Which one is it that I look like?"

Parvati and Lavender giggled along a few others; apparently they made up one side of the debate.

"That one right there," Seamus replied, pointing sharply to a green eyed, black haired man in green and sliver and black, he appeared to be in his mid-twenties. Harry bit the inside of his lip to keep from laughing at the way the man's very slight twitch in response to Seamus' prod.

"I suppose I can see a very slight resemblance," Harry conceded as he leaned closer to the portrait, as though to study the features of the man. As Harry moved away from the portrait he glanced sharply at a portrait which housed a woman with brown hair and brown eyes that was about the same age as the black haired man. Her lips twitched fractionally, but otherwise there was no further moment.

"Who are these things of?" Harry asked, turning his attention to the other two portraits: a woman in her mid-forties with dark-ish blonde hair and blue eyes, she was very severely dressed as compared to the younger woman; and a man with red-ish brown hair and blue eyes.

"No idea," Seamus and Dean replied at the same time.

"Surely they have some sort of impact on Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione declared as she moved forward to study the paintings. "But I've never seen any of them in any book, perhaps they're only mentioned in certain studies…"

"Hello! I see you've all found my portraits!" A bright cheery voice exclaimed, "Exquisite aren't they?"

"Who are they?" Harry asked, without turning to look at the man. However, the rest of the class slowly moved away from the wall and began settling into desks.

"_They_," the man replied, "would have been some of the most recognized magical people in all of Britain during their time, I believe. It's not surprising that none of you have ever seen these four people before; I was quite surprised to find these portraits myself. I had believed myself there were no more surviving paintings left."

"So who are they?" Hermione asked.

"I believe these are the only surviving paintings of the four founders, unfortunately, they appear to some of the few that aren't enchanted to move."

"Thank god!" Someone whispered very nearby to Harry. Harry again bit the inside of his cheek to keep from reacting. Harry turned around and noticed most everyone was now sitting, and he quietly slipped into the nearest chair and glanced up one final time at the portraits.

Residius Morton went into an in-depth lecture about his studies, his interest (not mentioning his obsession, of course) in the four founders, and how he came to teach at Hogwarts.

This was highly boring for Harry who already knew these things from going through Morton's things, and getting a bit of information from some…alternative sources of information.

One of which was winking at him in amusement, right now.

Hermione poked Harry and chided, "Pay attention Harry, this is quite fascinating."

Harry didn't see how it could be considered remotely close to interesting, and slowly adjusted his pose until it was just so. Then he reached for a plain, practically wire ring he wore and activated his illusion.

Then Harry took off his robe, balled it up on the desk before him, and went to sleep.

* * *

"What's in the bag, Harry?" Hermione finally demanded on the way to dinner. Harry had been expecting it sooner, but apparently the possible portraits of the four founders were more interesting than Harry-Interrogating.

That sounded oddly like Harry-Hunting…boy, did that bring back pleasant memories.

"Wormwood, dead rodents, belladonna, black magic manuals, _Moste Potente Potions_," Harry replied, "You know, the usual."

"That's not funny, Harry" Hermione told Harry, frowning at him.

"I agree," Harry replied somberly, "dark arts are very grave and serious by nature."

Hermione made an angry noise and left Harry behind in a huff.

"What's up with her?" Harry asked Ron curiously.

"No clue, mate," Ron replied, "but that's girls for you."

Harry shrugged in agreement and shifted the strap of his messenger bag; carefully checking to make sure it remained untouched.

Harry was carrying precious cargo today, that wouldn't fancy loosing…and no, not dead rodents or poisons.

Though Harry should pop a couple of poisons and a suicide note in the bag later, just in case Hermione's curiosity got the better of her…

Talk about a morbid sense of humor.

Harry and Ron finished the trek to the Great Hall for dinner and Harry couldn't help but spare a glance up at Dumbledore, he was back to his twinkling self. But there was just something different enough that let Harry know that the loss of the deed still weighed heavily on his mind.

Then Harry looked at the Gryffindor table and fought down the urge to act out the scene of Hamlet's death…it wouldn't be exactly in context, but it was dramatic enough to get the point across.

But back to the point!

The worst possible thing had happened! Yes! Tonight, the only empty seat was next to Ginny.

It looked like Harry would either have to skip dinner and go down to the kitchens later, sit at another table, or wait here until Ginny left…

"Harry! Harry!" A bright voice called, and Harry turned to see his little hero: the first year girl he was tutoring. And what do you know; there was an empty seat next to her.

Harry headed over and she smiled brightly and began reaching for her book bag, apparently she was having more problems with something. Harry returned the girl's smile and hastened over.

* * *

"Should I be jealous?"

Harry grinned at his lapful of Lisa Turpin and replied, "Of a first year? Of course not! Not until she's graduated, naturally."

"Naturally," Lisa replied teasingly, adjusting herself so she was straddling Harry's legs and facing him.

"Sorry I haven't been able to see you recently," Harry told her, "I've been busy."

"Tutoring first years?" Lisa asked, grinning.

"Among other things," Harry replied, "like breaking into teachers' offices and sacrificing small animals."

Lisa giggled and tossed her hair, "Seriously?"

"No, I've mainly been evading Hermione. She's been a bit bitchy recently, I think I've done something…or _something_," Harry replied. "Maybe Dumbledore said something to her, I've no idea."

Lisa shrugged and then asked, "So what's the plan for tonight?"

"Plan?" Harry asked blankly, "What makes you think there's a plan?"

"You always have a plan," Lisa replied. "Don't play dumb with me."

"Well, there's no plan for tonight," Harry declared, "We will be completely winging it this evening…in a clearing I've found in the forbidden forest. Should be fun," Harry wagged his eyebrows, and Lisa snorted and pushed herself off Harry's lap.

"I don't know…is it safe?" Lisa asked skeptically.

Harry laughed, and jumped up off his chair replying, "Hell no! But that just adds to the fun."

"If we get expelled I'm kicking your ass," Lisa replied.

"If we get expelled, I'll kick my own ass twice," Harry assured her. "Shall we?"

"Shall I leave the skirt on this time?" Lisa asked airily.

"And the knee-highs, I expect," Harry agreed, holding his arm out for her, "Think we should get a move on?"

"Might as well," Lisa replied, "It's been a long summer."

"Longer and harder than you know," Harry agreed.

Lisa snorted and pranced out of the classroom, her skirt flipping, calling behind her, "oh, I know just how long and hard this _summer_ has been, Mr. Potter."

Harry gave chase, after securing his messenger bag.


	4. Intent, the Fourth

So, I'm not quite sure where all this was going, but whatever...and I think I gave too much away, but again, whatever...so just enjoy and I'll be working on...something

But this chapter is interesting because you get to see a bit of Harry's dark side

**_Intent, the Fourth_**

Harry froze in place, hand automatically falling to his messenger bag, and listened carefully.

"He's definitely not himself, sir," Hermione was saying, "and he wasn't in his dorm tonight…I've tried to get him to return to his proper behavior, but nothing I do seems to work, and the more I pay attention to him the more different I realize he's becoming."

Harry scrunched up his brows and quickly reviewed his recent behavior, nothing stood out as being _completely_ strange, but altogether Harry could see why his behavior would alarm someone who was looking too closely.

But Harry had managed to keep up his act so well…what could be changing…?

Harry pushed his forehead against the wall of the secret passage he was in, and felt the jolt of magic from Hogwarts tingle straight through him and settle down along the waves of his own magic.

"I must keep a closer eye on him then," Dumbledore said mournfully, "we might be loosing him to the dark side."

Harry found himself biting down a full fledged burst of laughter at that comment…Harry didn't see himself as Luke Skywalker though…or Darth Vader, since that was clearly where Dumbledore was going with that insinuation.

"Do you really think so, sir?" Hermione demanded, sounding breathless with fear.

This reminded Harry of the poorly written soap operas his Aunt Petunia used to watch, and then he realized he was playing the part he would have had in said soap opera by listening to this entire stupid conversation. Harry shook his head and prepared to leave.

"What you tell me concerns me, Miss Granger," Dumbledore replied, "Harry has been difficult before, but never to this degree. I am beginning to wonder whether my protections have effect on him anymore."

This drew Harry's attention, apparently his behavior was telling, more so than that, apparently Dumbledore was still trying to manipulate his behavior, and Harry hadn't noticed.

This was most definitely what had put Dumbledore on his case, but Harry could have sworn that Dumbledore had given up on trying to control his behavior…at least since that week or two back in third year.

But perhaps Harry had done something to have Dumbledore attempt it again.

This Harry needed to know.

"Your protections, sir?" Hermione asked curiously.

"A few spells," Dumbledore replied off-handedly, "to keep him from harming himself."

That sounded comforting, Harry rolled his eyes, and wonder what he needed "protection" from _this_ time.

"I also need to know when you first started noticing this behavior," Dumbledore continued smoothly, "it may give me some idea as to what Harry has become vulnerable to."

Harry snorted, he had never heard going over to the dark side described quite in _that_ way.

"Since school started," Hermione replied, sounding worried, "and there's no telling when he started acting this way if he changed during summer."

Harry rolled his eyes, and prepared to leave.

"Perhaps the wards haven't been enough to keep Harry safe from the influence of Voldemort," Dumbledore said mournfully.

"You don't think that Harry would join him?" Hermione gasped in horror.

Dumbledore began speaking again, and Harry decided he'd _definitely_ had enough and left.

He quickly returned to the Gryffindor tower, he knew that bed checks were still done periodically unless Ron or Hermione had reported that the three of them would be out doing something…or two of them…didn't have to be a golden _trio_ event.

Harry lived like a baby or some sort of livestock, or something. It was really annoying, especially after _years_ of autonomy…well, semi-autonomy. Harry wasn't so arrogant as to suggest that he could survive on his own.

Harry bypassed the portrait of the fat lady, you never could tell whose side these newer portraits were on, and instead took the passageway directly into the Gryffindor common room. He ended up near the base of the boy dormitory stairs, and after a quick glance into his messenger bag to make sure he hadn't lost his precious cargo; he headed off toward the stairs.

And then he heard her.

"Now all the students should be in bed except for Miss Granger, is that understood Mr. Cartwright and Miss Trowling," McGonagall asked.

"Yes, ma'am," the head boy and Miss Trowling, the Ravenclaw sixth year prefect replied together.

Harry didn't have time to spare clearly.

He quickly darted up the stairwell to the boy's dorms, and was surprised when he couldn't hear the footsteps of Mr. Head Boy. Normally whenever he cut it this close to bed inspections he could hear everything Mr. Head Boy was doing in the stark silence of the Gryffindor Tower when all the baby Gryff's were asleep in their beds.

Harry continued taking the stairs at his fast pace and before he could think, his shoe slid along the carpeting covering the stairs just right and he fell backwards, arms flying out to grab at something or regain his balance.

His hand grabbed at the railing of the stairway, and Harry felt something jerk and pop, painfully, in his shoulder. The shock was so much that Harry couldn't even scream, and then the air was pushed out of his lungs when he landed, hard, on the staircase. Stairs scraped down his back and then Harry hit a twist in the staircase and his leg got smashed up against a stair.

* * *

"Are you going to jump?" 

Sal jerked his head up and turned to look at one of his three traveling companions, "Rowena Ravenclaw," he greeted tersely.

"So are you going to jump?" Rowena asked him.

"I might," Sal replied.

"I bet you won't," Rowena said, but her eyes and tone said this was a challenge of pride more than anything else.

Sal shook his head and looked down the steep cliff and replied, "You don't know me very well."

"I know you were taken in and abandoned by Morgan le Fay," Rowena told him, "I know you're Helga's apprentice, I know you managed to convince the reclusive Godic Gryffindor to join this amazing escapade of immense failure."

Sal scoffed and rolled his eyes replied, "So you really don't know anything at all."

"Prove it."

Sal jumped.

* * *

Harry woke up cradled in overly concerned magic, Harry groaned and shook his head, only to find out that hurt too much. 

Harry whimpered and he felt the magic below him give a little more, oh how his leg and shoulder ached.

The magic around him throbbed lovingly and tightened around him, and then he realized what the magic was and opened his eyes. He was in the hospital wing; he recognized the softened mattress he was laying on.

He used his good arm to push himself up and he felt warm magic fold concernedly around him.

"I'm fine," Harry said soothingly, "I'll be just fine."

"Good to hear."

Harry jerked his head over to stare into the darkness of the room, immediately locking onto the dark figure of Dumbledore.

"It was quite a fall," Harry said congenially. "What all did I do? Break my leg, sprain my shoulder, and I guess must've hit my head, right?"

"You have a concussion, and you dislocated your shoulder," Dumbledore replied.

"I was close," Harry replied, and the he reached for his glasses and slid them onto his nose and looked back over to where Dumbledore sat. "So how quick was the emergency reaction team? I'm supposed to report my findings to the ministry and all, so they can post them in the Prophet."

"Harry," Dumbledore said sharply, "what were you doing out of bed?"

Harry rubbed his jaw with his good arm and cocked his head, replying, "Good question…"

"Harry," Dumbledore barked, leaving no room for jokes. "Where were you?"

"Okay," Harry replied solemnly, "I'll tell you where I really was, you aren't going to like it though, be warned. I was…in the girls' dorm. I snuck up to try on their lacy thongs and I was on my way back down when I heard McGonagall and the bed-checkers and I took off running and ended up falling down the stairs," Harry waited a second but Dumbledore didn't respond so he added a bit more onto his story, "…which sucks ass."

"Harry, I need you to tell me where you were for your own safety," Dumbledore's voice sounded more like he was interrogating for his own interests but Harry decided to cut the man a break.

"Okay, so what I was really doing was having it off with a pureblood elitist's daughter in the forbidden forest."

"What were you doing that you can't even trust me enough to tell me the truth," Dumbledore sighed. "I will never understand where I went wrong with you, all I know is that somewhere I did and…what I really need to know is where did you get this?"

Dumbledore held something up and Harry didn't even need light to tell exactly what object he was holding. Harry's blood ran cold, and he went into thinking mode.

"I'm going to have to send you away for a while, Harry," I don't know what made you steal the deed—"

"Steal?!" Harry demanded before he could stop himself, "Apparently, you haven't even taken the time to notice whose name is on the damn thing!"

"The deed belongs to the headmaster—"

"Well, I'm afraid that in these dark times, I don't trust the deed to the headmaster of the school," Harry replied, voice getting cold. "In these times I only trust the school to someone's whose intentions I trust, explicitly, and as we all know a person can only truly trust themselves."

"You can't possibly even understand what owning the deed would imply!"

"I have a much better idea of the responsibilities than you do, apparently," Harry replied, "besides that, Hogwarts knows whose hands she's safest in and in this case it's her creator."

Dumbledore stumbled to his feet and groped for something in his robes, Harry could tell immediately when he was on the end of the man's wand, "I hadn't believed Tom when he told me, I could—"

Harry rushed forward and pulled the wand from Dumbledore's hand, stunning him with a spell the man hadn't even heard of, probably. Harry fell hard on his still healing leg on the stone floor next to the unconscious man.

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear, old man," Harry told the prostrate man. Harry plucked the deed from Dumbledore's fingers and patted the floor next to him, asking, "Just a little hidey hole for now, love?"

The floor caved a little below his hand and Harry dropped the deed in, removing his hand, "don't let anyone in there but me, okay?"

The hole closed with a barely audible sound and Harry returned his attention to the man and told him, "Never let it be said that rushing headlong into messes is only a Gryffindor tendency."

Harry located Dumbledore's forehead and traced a few marks on it activating the spell easily. Then he turned his attention to getting back on the bed, now noticing the sharp pains running up and down his femur. He groaned and inched his way up to the bed and then the floor bumped him up and he rolled onto the bed, bumping his shoulder, leg, and head in the process.

"I fail at life," Harry muttered to himself and he turned his attention back to Dumbledore. He needed to wipe his spell from the wand's memory and then get the wand back to Dumbledore and then wake the man up.

It only took a few moments of thought before he placed a timed revival spell on Dumbledore and moved on to removing the spells he'd used from the wand, and he banished the wand back to the man's hand…it was the best he could do without his wand, and it certainly wouldn't be wise to locate it now.

Harry plopped down on his back and closed his eyes, evening his breathing.

Dumbledore woke moments later and then Harry heard robes rustling and then Dumbledore walked up to his bedside and said mournfully, "My poor boy, things never do go quite right for you, do they?"

Harry had to work to keep from smirking, if only the man knew.


	5. Intent, the Fifth

So this, as promised is my sad, sad attempt at back-story, which ended up in the completely crack beginning of next chapter, just remember: you can only blame yourselves

Also a short reminder, this is _really_ AU …on that note I hope you all enjoy, and I hope I've cleared a few things up without giving too much away, but do be sure and let me know what you think

_**Intent, the Fifth**_

The dreams had started one morning when Harry awoke with no memory of who his cousin, aunt, and uncle were. He couldn't remember a thing that had happened, nor what he'd done to inflame such wrath. He could remember magic though, he could feel it pulsing around him, indignant about everything, he could feel magic in the runes that could be passed off as unusual birthmarks, and most importantly he could feel the spells on the tip of his tongue demanding, with each slap or angry word, to be released.

And at night when he'd been thrown into the cupboard, magic flaring to protect his little body from the impact, he'd curled up on the lumpy cot, confused and hurt and _angry_.

Then he'd dreamed, he'd dreamed of riding a horse, placed before a woman he could feel magic roiling off of, safely saddled on the beast. He'd dreamed of sleeping on grounds that held do much magic that it rattled Harry's brain while he lay on the ground, close to the woman, Harry knew enough at that point in time to know she wasn't his mother, but he didn't know enough then to know who she was.

He'd dreamed of how he'd come to her, the strange circumstances of his birth that he was far, far too young to understand, and most importantly he'd dreamed of the magic that was so deeply ingrained into his very being that he was almost a completely different species.

Every night he'd dreamed and dreamed, and they'd slowly taught him more information and more of his thoughts and more of his memories and then when he was nothing more than an incredibly immature seven year old he'd dreamed of his death, and then woke before he could remember anything of the secrets beyond, he couldn't even recall the last failing moments of his life.

Then he'd torn off his clothes and stared at the marks littering his body…and realized what it was, and why he was here once more when he should be safe and sound with those he'd loved when he'd lived.

He'd wanted to end it, but there was an 'if' clause, as a spell of intent, the spell could only be destroyed by the maker…

And so here he was stuck until he'd been destroyed or he'd destroyed the one who'd crafted the spell.

Harry really didn't work well under ultimatums.

* * *

Harry was pointedly not paying attention in Transfigurations, he'd asked Lisa for her Ancient Runes workbook and she'd handed it over, graciously telling him which one was her homework assignment. 

He was poring over it, filling out the spells and answering the questions instead of taking notes, his illusion dutifully making it appear that he was being a good boy and taking notes on Transfigurations like everyone else.

Then Hermione poked his arm through his illusion, he'd rolled his sleeves up and since they were closest to the window it was rather hot. He covered the ancient runes workbook and quickly moved into the proper position so he could drop the illusion without it being noticed.

"I didn't know you had a birthmark," Hermione commented softly, "it's a funny shape, reminds me of something…maybe a rune…?"

Harry glanced at his arm and replied, "I guess so, I never really paid much attention to it."

Hermione tapped her finger by the mark, biting her lip, thinking, her eyes flitted up and down his arm and of course she caught sight of something else.

"Here's another one…well, it's different, but…" She grabbed at Harry other arm and studied that one closely too, "Here are more! Why didn't I ever notice before?"

Harry shrugged and looked at his arms and replied, "They look like freckles to me."

She huffed in annoyance and replied, "Boys! I think they're interesting, we should see if they are actual runes, wouldn't that be fascinating if they were?"

"Completely captivating," Harry agreed, blandly.

Hermione giggled and returned to her note-taking, it took several moments after he'd erected the illusion to realize it was the first truly civil conversation they'd had in a long time.

* * *

Lisa stretched languidly and Harry's eyes were riveted on her, how was it fair to his education that they should end up in the same NEWTs level Charms class. God, the way her back arched and the way her breasts curved out of her chest made him want to do things that would land him in detention (at least) and get Lisa in trouble (Harry used that word very, very lightly) with her father. 

Lisa's eyes slid over to meet with his and she grinned brightly and picked up her quill. Her friends twittered and giggled which made Lisa blush and Harry felt a goofy, self-satisfied grin spread across his face.

Ron leaned over and whispered, "Mate, not to say she's ugly or anything, but you could do better."

"Right now," Harry replied, "I couldn't find anyone more right for me than her."

"I'm just saying mate," Ron replied, "especially her blonde friend," Ron hissed, "I think you could find someone more agreeable in the facial area."

Harry turned at stare at Ron and asked with a smirk, "Why Ron, are you jealous?"

Ron choked and then began laughing.

Harry returned his attention to staring at Lisa's hot, hot body.

Lisa waited in the hallway for him after class, saying completely smugly: "Way to look like a complete and utter teenager."

Harry waved Ron and the other Gryffindors along before he tilted his head thoughtfully and replied, "You know, strangely enough, that's exactly what I was going for."

Lisa giggled and explained, "I'm allowing you to escort me to my next class."

Harry's eyebrows shot up and he said, "Wow, so we're almost, sorta, almost kinda, maybe about to start dating."

"See this whole pureblood courting thing isn't hard at all," Lisa replied laughing, and the two of them headed down the hallway.

"Am I doing well?" Harry asked her curiously.

"You're far too forward," Lisa replied. "Father, if he finds out, will probably have to send you a letter saying it's inappropriate to make me laugh the first time you've escorted me to a class."

Harry laughed.

"Now, I'll made out to be the slut of the year because I made you laugh," Lisa added, "far, far too forward for a young lady of my stature."

"Political or physical stature?" Harry asked, turning to look pointedly at Lisa…even though it was probably one of the worst lines he'd said to her. And he'd said some pretty stupid stuff to Lisa.

Lisa cocked her head at him and grinned disapprovingly replying, "That's too forward a question for me to answer during the first time you've escorted me to class."

"Well, would asking to be able to escort you to another class be too forward?" Harry asked with a grin.

"Technically, you're supposed to write my father for permission before you ask," Lisa replied, smiling. "But, I think that will be fine."

"And you know my willingness to thwart authority figures," Harry added, "so I'll walk you again on Wednesday?"

"Sounds good," Lisa replied with an almost coy smile.

"Ten?" Harry asked, hoping that he was out of earshot of the other students, mainly Ravenclaws and Slytherins.

"Eleven would be better," Lisa replied, "do I need to bring anything?"

"Just yourself," Harry replied. Then he wrangled the Ancient Runes workbook out of his satchel and held it out to her, "and I think I owe you something."

"You owe me a bit more than this," Lisa replied, holding the book in her arms, "but we can go into that later."

* * *

Later that night, Harry sat on his bed, sorting through some papers he'd copied from various Morton's files earlier this year, Lisa's head pillowed on his lap. 

Harry's lit wand was tucked behind his ear as he read through Morton's curriculum, a list of books on the founders he'd recently acquired, and various correspondences the man carried on with some historian friends.

The man really had no interest in anything beyond the founders; it was rather pathetic…though he was writing to a rune specialist that currently lived in Iceland, the pair appeared to be old friends.

The rune specialist had some interesting, but not entirely incorrect ideas about runic magic which was certainly a new concept to Harry; most people who studied runes couldn't even comprehend the sort of effort and intent that had to go into creating the simplest spells. This man seemed to have some wariness about practicing magic using the ancient languages he studied, and Harry was glad to see _some_ respect still existed.

Harry's fingers softly flitted over one the runes on his upper arm, if only certain people could comprehend the sort of power encased in these tiny words a letters, then…

Well, then…Harry wouldn't be here.

Lisa snuffled a little bit in her sleep and one of her legs slid up and over one of Harry's. Harry glanced at his watch and then smoothed over Lisa's wiry hair, placing Morton's papers aside. Harry then picked up a book he'd been wading through, a recently published book of higher magics that didn't discriminate between dark and light magics.

He'd read until three and then go to sleep.

Harry'd made it through a couple of chapters before he heard the door creak open, Harry quickly darkened the tip of his wand and slipped down into his bed as quietly as he could, tucking the book under him. He gently pulled Lisa flush against his chest, pulled the covers up over both of them to save Lisa's modesty, and closed his eyes and not a moment too soon apparently.

The curtains on his bed fluttered and a draft hit his face, the bed dipped as someone sat down, carefully on his bed.

Fingers carded through his hair, and Harry knew it must be Remus. He would often come by for a minute or two after a meeting with Dumbledore, it made Harry feel like he had a parent…for once. Harry also didn't think this was creepy, but he knew others would disagree. Harry often had too much faith in people, which would probably come as a surprise for some.

"I hope you've been sleeping well," Remus whispered, and Lisa snuffed and cuddled a little closer to Harry. "And I won't tell anyone about the girl," Remus, combed through Harry's hair once more and then sighed saying, "Take care of you…and be responsible, _please_."

Harry tried hard not to smile and then Remus left quickly, Harry felt disappointed that he hadn't gotten tucked in as was normal for these visits. But Remus probably didn't because he wouldn't want to wake Lisa, or do anything that Harry _would_ consider inappropriate.

Seconds after Harry was sure Remus was gone he again propped himself up in bed and Lisa stirred, her mumbled voice asking him…something…

"I'm just reading, it's okay, go back to sleep," Harry told her soothingly, and he opened the book, his wand held lightly between his thumb and forefinger. He wouldn't light it until Lisa had her eyes closed.

But always a true Ravenclaw, she asked what he was reading.

"Some thing I stole from the incoming library book folder," Harry replied, "I'm not sure about the title, but it's rather theory-oriented."

Lisa mumbled something and drifted back to sleep, and Harry lit his wand back up and again placed it behind his ear.

He'd made it through a couple of chapters when he'd heard some conversation in the hallway and prepared to pretend to be asleep, but more likely it was just one of the lower years trying to sneak back in after having it off in the astronomy tower.

"Miss Granger, I'm afraid I don't quite recall what you're describing."

"Fuck it all!" Harry hissed and quickly hid the book, cast a silencing spell, lay down once more, and pulled the covers over Lisa. Then he activated his illusion, tweaking it as well as he could to this situation, and was pleased to see it adapted well enough.

"What's going on?" Lisa demanded sleepily, tossing the cover from her head.

"Dumbledore," Harry replied, "keep quiet, and still."

Footsteps crossed the room and Harry's curtains were opened for the second time tonight.

"Now, Miss Granger," Dumbledore whispered, "do point out the marking you were describing."

"This one here," Hermione replied pointing to the illusion, luckily she didn't attempt to touch it or it probably would've collapsed. "And there are more, they probably cover his whole body."

Dumbledore stroked his beard and stared down at Harry's arm and then said, "You must mean Harry's birthmarks! He was born with rather peculiar, runic markings all over his body—rather strange, really. Worried Lily and James for a short while, but they're nothing but strange birthmarks, really."

"Oh, thank goodness," Hermione sighed, "I wasn't quite sure what they were and then I wondered if it wasn't…you-know-who trying to do something to him."

"There's no need for alarm at this moment, Miss Granger," Dumbledore gently assured her, "but I do appreciate all you've been doing for Harry. Your efforts have kept me informed of things I wouldn't have otherwise noticed."

"I'm glad," Hermione replied bashfully, looking down at her feet, "I'm sorry for getting you all riled up about nothing."

"Think nothing of it Miss Granger," Dumbledore chuckled, "what is it Alastor says? Constant vigilance?"

Hermione giggled.

"Now, I'll escort you back to the common room," Dumbledore told her, "You'll need your rest for your classes."

"Thank you sir," Hermione told him, and the two made their way back across the room, closing the dorm door shut behind them with a soft 'snick.'"

Harry let out a sigh of relief and twisted his ring, gently, letting the illusion fall.

"That was freaky," Lisa commented moments later. "Do they sneak into your room a lot?"

Harry nodded, exasperated.

"_Weird_," Lisa told him, "and Hermione watches you?"

"Like a hawk," Harry replied. "Ron's a lot more lax, but he isn't supposed to be. Hermione got the better end of the brainwashing, I think."

Lisa snickered, but it was half-hearted, and she asked, "Why don't you do anything?"

"What would I do?" Harry asked, "I'm a bit trapped right now, I can't leave Hogwarts and Dumbledore's a bastard."

"Why can't you leave Hogwarts?" Lisa asked, "There are plenty of other schools."

"I like this one," Harry replied, "Besides there's a bit more to Hogwarts than meets the eye."

"So…birthmarks?" Lisa asked, creeping up to look at his arms, "Runes, they said? Funny considering it's your favorite subject that you never took"

"Not just a hobby," Harry told her with a grin. "A body ornament too."

Lisa traced a line up and down his arm, and Harry shivered. She tapped on the rune once she found it and asked, "A starter rune, huh?"

"Not technically," Harry replied, "that sets of a secondary reaction," Harry pointed out the other four runes on that arm, "the actual starter rune is on the bottom of my foot."

"Wait one minute," Lisa exclaimed, shocked, "you mean—"

Harry nodded and finished, "It's an actual spell."


	6. Intent, the Sixth

Lots of founder-ish-ness in this one and of course it's utter crack…and I believe my representation of the founders is so far from canon it's actually funny, so just bear that in mind please.

_**Intent, the Sixth**_

Helga was a cold woman, cold—like frigid, like a Popsicle, except without the sugar and overall feelings of happiness…probably like half melted into some nightmare shape before being flash frozen at absolute zero.

Rowena would often roll her eyes behind the severe woman and sometimes pretend to cower behind her.

Helga, bless her frozen, black heart, never did catch on.

But there was warmth to Helga that no one ever saw. Sal had seen it though; the woman had taken him in at the age of 11, after all. She seemed drawn to lost causes, just look at Missy Weasley—Miss To-Scared-to-Tell-Anyone-Her-Real-Name—but no one was supposed to know about _that_.

Nonetheless, Sal had been abandoned by Morgan le Fay for various reasons that still ticked him off and Helga, finding kindness _somewhere_, had taken him in and taught him magic. Not that anyone would believe it since Sal had never been properly apprenticed—minor technicalities of course, as Sal would gladly prove to anyone who doubted his rather fantastic magical prowess.

But I digress; Helga had never liked the apprentice system. For the longest, she'd also been unable to be apprenticed because her father wouldn't have it—you know, the whole argument that there had to be a uterus in there somewhere, damnit! Thus she must be married off!

However, it was a slightly better deal for the man to sell his daughter to the first wizard who drooled in the vague direction of her skirt. The man happened to be a complete douche and made Helga's years of apprenticeship the worst she'd ever had. She just barely managed to escape with her life and without a kid or three and she swore she would make change.

Thus she fought a war under Morgan le Fay's guidance and after that, took in Sal and taught him magic—all the while slapping evil wizards down wherever they traveled which as anyone would tell you was not difficult because they were everywhere, and they all abused their apprentices something awful.

It didn't take long before Sal's days of learning were about to end, and Helga got it in her frozen, cold, frigid mind to make a school—go figure on that one, she'd never liked kids and couldn't tolerate Sal, though she could be warm to him…at times.

But Helga couldn't open a school on her own; she wasn't good at all the various magical subjects. So she had to track down various other talented witches and wizards, Sal got dragged into it because he had no where else to go, let's face it.

It didn't take long for Helga to hear about Rowena Ravenclaw, who'd downed a potion that made her uterus and ovaries shrivel up and die at the alter on her wedding day, and then taught herself magic…rather well, if the stories of apprentice rescue were to be believed.

Helga and Sal began journeying after the traveling witch, trying to track her down. Their journey was interrupted though by the rumors of Godric Gryffindor, who was apparently the best potions and herb master this side of the world…if you could get him to get over his shyness to talk to you.

Sal was asked to go retrieve him, while Helga went to find Rowena, they would rendezvous at the site they'd chosen to build the school at in 6 months.

It didn't more than a day to convince Godric. Sal was a persuasive little bastard if nothing else.

They met up with Rowena and Helga on their way back.

History was soon to be made.

* * *

"And that's pretty much how it went down, wouldn't you agree, Ro?" 

"I would indeed, Sal. Godric, don't you agree that's how it went down?"

"Of course, darling."

"You're an idiot."

"Apparently, Helga wishes to abstain from this vote—thus, majority rules and that's how the whole thing went down."

"I do agree that you're an idiot."

"Yes, we've already established that, there's no need to re-recognize well-known facts."

"So you admit you're an idiot."

"Not in so many words—any questions?"

Jasmine rubbed her face with the too-long sleeve of her robe and demanded, "You're the best magical people the world has ever known?"

Rowena and Salazar shared a look before proclaiming, "Unfortunately."

"We're smarter in person," Rowena assured the class.

"And skinnier," Salazar added.

Rowena nodded solemnly and explained, "It's a well-known fact that portraits add about three inches."

"How do the wards work?" David asked curiously.

"Magic," Salazar replied.

"No," David said, "like seriously."

"It's seriously best that I don't tell you," Salazar replied, his voice suddenly serious. "The wards are a highly specialized bit of magic and there are some who would stop at nothing to dissect, and thus destroy, them."

"Do they involve blood magic?" David asked.

Salazar sighed and rubbed his face, replying, "How many times do we have to tell you that all the best magic involves blood."

"It's quite true," Rowena agreed with a sly smirk. "Thus the reason women are better at it than men, they practically ooze magic."

"You're disgusting!" Salazar exclaimed while Helga groaned and Godric, the damn prude, turned red and looked away.

"You've said worse," Rowena replied brightly.

"Undoubtedly," Salazar agreed, "but let's continue on with our lesson shall we?"

"What did that even mean?" Emily demanded, looking very confused.

"Ask your mummy," Salazar replied. "All of you ask your mummies or daddies, that's not our job anymore."

"Our job is to sit here and look pretty," Rowena agreed, "thank god."

"We've done out part," Salazar agreed.

"You know, we found a history book—"

"Did you?" Salazar asked, almost sounding bored. "What lies have they wrought in that one?"

"It said _you_ were the great potions master, and _he_ was the great spell master," Adenine declared pointing at Salazar and Godric at the respective points.

Salazar scoffed and demanded: "Godric? A spell master?"

At the same time, Rowena exclaimed, "Heaven forbid Salazar find his way within 10 feet of a cauldron!"

"Besides that," Salazar continued, "Godric's practically a squib—why do you think he had a sword?"

Rowena bit her lip at that comment and Salazar's eyebrow rose, and then they turned to look at each other and collapsed into giggles. Godric flushed bright red and covered his face.

"God, Godric! You're such a prude!" Salazar told him in annoyance.

"How he's managed to stay that way after being married to me is a great mystery," Rowena added.

"You were married?!"

"Caused quite the scandal when I kept my last name," Rowena replied with a self-satisfied smirk, "Oh my! Your class is almost over, Hogwarts, dearest, do drop the illusion now!"

All four founders immediately took on the pose they were painted in and all the students, first years, turned to look at the front of the classroom, where Morton was finishing up his lecture on whatever the class had been about.

* * *

Harry snatched his wand from the bed side table and deactivated the surveillance spells Dumbledore had placed on various articles around the room…namely a mirror Harry had a lot of fun with during third year. Dumbledore had learned his lesson _that_ particular time. 

Unfortunately, the man never seemed to retain the things he'd learned for long.

Harry jumped of his bed and retrieved his invisibility cloak from his trunk; he spelled a pair of slippers silent and put both articles of clothing on. He slipped from the dorm and headed down to the hospital wing, his bare hand trailing along the wall the entire way, her magic sending shivers up and down his spine.

Once in the hospital wing he quickly located the bed he'd been placed in about a week before and knelt down next to it.

"All right, babe, you can open up," Harry whispered, holding his palm flat to the floor.

The floor caved just before him and Harry retrieved the deed, tucking it into the waistband of his pajamas before thanking Hogwarts for all she'd done to help him.

"I'd been a-wondering when ye might be comin' up to retrieve tha'."

Harry turned and smirked at the small shadowed figure of a child, replying firmly, "You can't have it."

"I'm believin' tha' I might be able to convince ye otherwise," the child replied.

"Doubt it," Harry replied, walking to the door, "and before I forget: get the _hell_ out of my school before I make you."

The child disappeared immediately, and Harry checked to make sure he still had the deed and that it was in fact the real deed.

This was precisely why Dumbledore could not have the deed, under any circumstances. Too many people would stop at nothing to get it, and some people didn't have the moral fiber to say no when presented with their deepest desire.

Harry meandered his way back to the tower, but decided to make a detour at Morton's classroom.

"Just how many children at this place have invisibility cloaks?" Rowena demanded as he breached the feeble wards Morton placed around his classroom the day that he'd ranted about how rude it was to break into one's personal belongings. Harry had spent the whole class staring pointedly at Ron and Hermione who had squirmed in their seats like the little worms they are whole time…Harry chose to ignore that the wards and the rant happened because he'd broken into Morton's classroom so many times.

"No clue," Harry replied, sweeping the invisibility cloak from his shoulder. "I know I have one."

"We know you have one too."

"How have you been?" Harry asked the portraits, "Bored?"

"Frightfully," Salazar replied, "the first years provide only so much amusement."

"You've been talking to the first years?" Harry demanded, wondering why it was so surprising, had he been in the same position (he decided not to try and figure in the paradox that, technically, he was in the same position) he'd have done the same thing.

"Fascinating little creatures," Salazar replied, in answer. "Though creepy crawly things are definitely not my forte, so I should not be considered an expert on what's fascinating and what isn't."

Harry smiled and replied, "As I well know."

Salazar chuckled and repeated in agreement, "As you well know."

Harry glanced at the other three portraits and saw that Helga had her arms crossed over her chest, and was studying Harry fiercely.

"Something wrong, Helga?" Harry asked after he waited to see if she would bring it up herself.

"You never told us quite how you came to be here," Helga replied slowly, thoughtfully.

"I haven't," Harry replied.

"Do tell us then," Helga said pointedly.


End file.
